Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Mabel was a savvy broad. She knew which end was up all right. Her frebbie trip to the hotel room with the French guy was a one way journey. Her DNA and the French guy's DNA made it to heaven all mixed together as they were just on the cusp of orgasmic release when the bomb went off. A very vindictive Angel sends poor Mabel back to Earth as the French talking male to find a female who will love him truly and without reservation. Problem it is in 833AD and life is tricky at best. More to come.

"No, there is no fecking way, I am absolutely not a prostitute!"

At least that is what I kept repeating to myself as I rode up the elevator the penthouse suite with this "la di da" guy from France. His English was not too good but he sure knew how to lay a kiss on a girl.

He told me somewhat noisily in the bar that his name was Alphonse and he was the "Crown Duke of something and in line for something somewhere". I have to admit I wasn't listening too close because I could see the house dick had his eagle eye on me and he was not scoping out my boobs. I would lay even odds the little prick was a little limp wristed if you catch my drift.

Anyhow, one thing led to another and here I was riding up to get my ass screwed off by this French guy with his hands all over my ass. And I mean, "all over". I was here as a favor to my friend, Gloria Hightower, who was an actual prostitute and proclaimed it proudly at all the school reunions. I was an unsuccessful actress with scant credits to my name and some blisters on my tail from bouncing on too many casting director's sofas.

Apparently he had already paid $1,000 into Gloria's retirement fund and wanted the goods delivered immediately. I considered admitting I was not Gloria the renowned "call girl" of international fame but I figured it would get her in a lot of trouble with her boss who was reputed to deal harshly with his "girls" causing customer dissatisfaction.

The only reason I was following through on Gloria's obligation was that the guy was pretty decent looking even if a little inebriated. OK, OK, the dude was drunk as a skunk. Well, that, and the fact that I had not gotten laid since my Ziggy got nicked with some seriously false passports at the airport. Ever since the 9-11 debacle, they really frowned at airport shenanigans even those of an innocent money-making variety. Ziggy was in for some hard time in a hard place. I was the true victim as I was the one deprived of my pussy-itch scratching partner of the past several years.

When we got to the guy's room, I had to do everything. I opened the door. I undressed him. I even put on the condom. That actually was lots of fun because his dick was rock hard and almost too big for the condom. I lubed him up with the stuff I always keep in my purse.

Yeah, I'm an optimist.

Since he was too drunk to maneuver much, I just hopped onboard his cock and started to ride it with long-deprived enthusiasm. I loved the way he stretched me so much. Ziggy's cock was kind of on the small size but he was a very tender and caring lover.

I was just rounding the last turn and keeping real tight to the rail. The homestretch was right ahead and I could see the finish line. My panting probably was disturbing the guests on both side of this room but I didn't care. This orgasm was all mine. I deserved it. I had worked for it.

Suddenly, the room disappeared.

I thought for an instant it was the flash of a blinding orgasm but it was actually the obliteration of an entire floor of the Plaza hotel by a remotely triggered device.

This Alphonse guy was a big fat juicy target and I was squatting on his cock when he got wiped.

I opened my eyes and all I could see was shades of white on white. I never liked white and hated all the white cars that filled the roads with lack of color.

A voice murmured close to my ear.

"Miss? Miss? Oh, my, this is a conundrum! I say, Miss."

The last word was almost shouted and startled me from my languid daydreams. I knew that I was on the verge of a fantastic orgasm but could not quite get there for some reason. The little guy with the glasses was shaking a handful of papers in my face and was so upset; he hopped about in severe agitation.

"Yeah, what's the problem, fella? Did I step on your crank?"

I had to snigger at my own cleverness.

"My dear young lady, you must never, I repeat, never, address an Angel of the Lord in that manner. "Cranks" are not a topic of discussion up here!"

This guy was obviously kooked.

"Our records indicate you are one Mabel Mahoney and yet your documents are for a Miss Gloria Hightower. To make matters worse, most of your retrievable DNA is for his highness The Archduke Alfonse heir to the civilized Christian world and several missionary territories."

She looked at the loony with a puzzled face.

"Wait, I can explain, I was just using Gloria's stuff to fill-in for her with the Alfonse guy. This Alfonse and me, I guess you could say we were "hooked together" at the time of the explosion."

The short blue-eyed man gave her a sharp glance.

"The bottom line, Miss Mahoney is that you are not eligible to enter either Heaven or Purgatory or even

Limbo with this kind of discrepancy. In fact, the heavy concentration of Alphonse DNA makes you a good candidate for "Lucifer Land". We don't like to use the H word here."

For the first time, Mabel looked down and saw that "her" body was identical to Alfonse's and that "she" was most definitely a man. That was real easy to figure out because if you got a nine inch cock you are a male regardless of what your brain is telling you.

"What the Feck? What did you guys do to me? I ain't no guy. Where the feck are my tits?"

The little man sniffed as if there were a bad smell in the white vacuum.

"I must insist you watch your language, my dear. Oh, I guess I should say, Sir."

Mabel was shaking with indignation.

"This is definitely not funny, Mister. I want my body back and I want it back now."

The funny little man shook his head from side to side and clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"I am afraid it is already decided. You must go back and be Alfonse until you have a female regard you with true love and undying devotion. Once you have accomplished that, we can send Alphonse to his destination and you may assume a position in Heaven suitable for your total happiness. If you are unsuccessful, you will remain as Alfonse until the grave."

The very next thing I felt were the gentle drops of rain slashing onto my face in the middle of a dark and silent forest. I was acutely aware that I was wearing not a stitch of clothing and that my cock was standing erect for no apparent reason.

The sound of singing caught my attention and I walked gingerly to a clearing on my bare feet.

There in front of me was a young girl dressed in a festive costume like those seen at Medieval Times or in historical films. I hid behind a bush and called out to the girl for assistance.

"Pardon me. I seem to have lost my clothing while bathing and beseech you to find me a pair of breeches."

I had no idea why I spoke the words "beseech" or "breeches" and was further startled to hear the young maid reply in French.

I found that I was able to immediately switch into the French tongue quite easily.

"Yes, please, I will be happy to repay you as soon as I locate my purse."

The girl scooted away and returned in a matter of minutes with a pair of leather trousers and a plain white shirt with no buttons. I realized I must find a pair of shoes as quickly as possible to prevent damage to my tender soles.

When I stepped from behind the bush, the young girl giggled and said,

"You have no codpiece, sir."

I looked down and, sure enough, the outline of my cock and two balls and even the shape of my cockhead were easily discernible inside the tight pants.

"My apologies, my sweet."

The girl giggled and stroked her long hair with her fingertips.

"No need to apologize, sir. May I inspect it for any damage?"

The gentle touch of the maid's finger roaming all over my package was a delight. I could see how men loved the touch of a female hand arousing their equipment for some serious penetration of mouth, pussy or ass. Since up to this point, I had always been on the receiving end, it was difficult to picture the sensation of impaling female private parts. Something must be working right because I felt a mysterious tingling in my groin and saw my "equipment" begin to unfurl to full sail.

The girl laughed and released my tool to the cool late afternoon air. The light drizzle had stopped and the forest creatures had taken voice once more. I joined them in vocal concert as the lips of the young girl wrapped tightly around my no longer dormant cock. This lass in her mid-twenties was no stranger to oral activities and she soon had me ready to spill my seeds into her lovely mouth.

I bellowed shamefully, like a bull rutting a complacent cow, when I spurted deep in her wet and willing mouth.

This living as a man had some very interesting advantages.

The pretty young thing licked me clean and put me away like a banker counting his money. The glint in her eyes told me she was not finished with me yet.

"Come, sir, I will take you to my mother. We can hide you in our hut until the soldiers have left the village."

This obviously was not some type of role play, so I innocently asked,

"May I humbly inquire as to the year, my dear?"

The girl who told me her name was Gwendolyn brightly replied,

"Why, of course, you tease me, sir, everyone knows it is the Year of Our Lord, 833 Anno Domini."

I was on the verge of apoplexy as I contemplated the deviousness of the questionable "Angel" who had set me down in a very dangerous and violent period of History. Finding "true love" in an age when females were bound to their families and traded like cattle was near to impossible.

My young companion grasped me by the hand and pulled me along behind her like a balky mule. It was no that I hesitated to remain close to the delightful young creature as much as my fear of the unknown in front of me.

Gwendolyn's mother was mid-forties and already looked like an old woman. It was not her fault; it was the harsh life for women in this period of existence. I will say that the physical requirements of the period did keep the older woman in a fairly appealing figure. At least, what was visible under the formless coverall. Her prominent breasts were sagging but not unattractively and I could tell under her robe that her saddle was primed for pounding.

They fed me something, I have no idea what it was, but at least it was solid food and mollified my hunger pangs. I had received no sustenance since some snacks in the bar at the Plaza.

We only had one bed for all of us and the scheming little wench made certain her mother stayed on the far side from me. I was quite exhausted and would have fallen right off to sleep except the little doxie straddled me and enveloped my cock with her wet pussy before I could say a word. I just lay there and looked into the smiling eyes of her mother as her daughter rode my steaming erection with her wet vagina. The slick and squishy sounds of our exertions seemed loud in the silent cottage. The young Gwendolyn was suddenly using words which could only be expressed in the French language. They were so dirty and depraved; I wondered who she possibly have learned them from. Her mother Simone was humping her fingers with such rapidity and skill that I was not surprised to hear her get off her release before we even came close.

Gwendolyn shuddered and I released a torrent of creamy cum up deep inside her pretty little quim. The poor girl fell fully spent onto my chest and fell into a deep sleep with her pussy still wrapped around my happy cock.

Simone put her finger to her lips and slid up next to us. I could feel her work worn fingers moving all over my equipment and her daughter's pussy like a quality control manager looking for flaws. She seemed satisfied and brought her fingers up to her own lips to taste the sweet scent of torrid sex.

I fell asleep with Gwendolyn astride me and Simone at my side with her cheek on my shoulder.